Mother's Day
by WonderPickle
Summary: It's Mother's Day, and Happy's got a lot of thoughts about her pregnancy. What if she can't do this? One-shot, Quintis.


**I write Happy's inner monologue too much. But she's my baby girl and I love her a lot.**

 **happy Mother's Day to all the mothers out there!**

* * *

Happy peered at the old tape nestled between her fingertips, her other hand moving across the small bump on her stomach.

She couldn't sleep.

Mother's Day had always been a sucky holiday for her. Knowing her own mom wasn't even alive, and never getting the chance to have an adoptive one, the second Sunday in May never failed to make her a little miserable.

The tape her father had given her two years ago wasn't something she watched often. It'd shown her how open and carefree her parents once were, made her wonder if they'd raise her, maybe she wouldn't have turned out the way she did.

But it also served as a reminder of the childhood she _could've_ had. The mother and father that she longed for in the orphanage. Happy grew into an adult who never even had the thought of kids cross her mind. Hell, the thought of ever being anything but alone never crossed her mind.

Now here she was, three months into her pregnancy.

She was terrified of not being a fit parent.

She was terrified of dying like her mother.

She was terrified of it all going _wrong_.

Sure, throughout the past couple years, her emotional capacity had increased, and the circuitry running under her skin wasn't just wires anymore. The signals that registered as electrical currents evolved into genuine human emotions, their touch reaching deeper than mechanical signals ever had.

 _You're a softie_ , Toby had told her.

Happy hated to think that the rough exterior he'd managed to fall in love with was starting to sand away.

Yeah sure, she wanted to grow and develop. But she didn't want to _change_.

Though, it did leave her thinking whether being a mother was a task she was ready for.

True, there was no way in hell Happy would let her baby go through what she did. That was never an option.

But the question of her readiness and emotional ability left an uncomfortable doubt in her head, often keeping her awake at night.

Tonight was one of those nights.

And all that emotional stuff didn't even account for the physical aspect of delivering a baby.

Happy could handle the pain.

Thing was, her mother _hadn't_ made it.

What if whatever had prevented her mom from surviving childbirth was a trait she inherited? What if it was bad genetics?

The mere thought itself was enough to obscure her logical senses with clouds of dread and an atypical amount of angst.

She hadn't yet directly communicated this to Toby. Voicing the possibility of her... _death_ , made it all too real. Not that she hadn't tried. The words just clung to the inside of her throat, refusing to emerge, leaving claw makes in their wake. And each following time rubbed the reminders from the last, making it that much harder.

Happy knew this wasn't a conversation she could push away forever. She'd just never been the best with words.

What would her child think of a mother who sucked at communicating? Even after years of working on it?

A breath slowly departed from the space between her lips.

Toby told her over and over again he had faith in her. Sometimes it was just difficult to believe.

Before they'd gotten married, Dr. Rizzuto gave her a stamp of approval.

But that was only to be a wife.

Being a mother was _different_.

Paige said she always worried about Ralph, no matter how old she got, how old he got, she would always worry.

When Happy watched him that one Halloween, it was a lot to handle. She was close to pulling her own hair out.

And Ralph was one of _them_.

They'd talked about their child being a normal. Not enough for the worry to ease, though.

Toby didn't relate well to normals. She did even less than he did.

Despite not having the first clue about how to properly parent, she had absolutely _no idea_ how to parent a kid that wasn't a genius. It wasn't like she could take time to warm up to it, it was _her_ child.

Rebuilding an entire car engine she could do in her sleep. Diffusing bombs was no problem. Impromptu field surgery she managed. Tackling criminals, scaling the side of a building, creating a mechanical device that seemed unthinkable, all within her wheelhouse.

Tasks and missions had a solution. Coaxing a crying baby, rocking him or her to sleep, being there emotionally, she didn't know if she could do those things.

There wasn't a question about whether their child was loved or not. That wasn't it.

She wanted her baby to never be alone or to feel alone. She hated knowing that if she wasn't a good mom, that could easily happen.

At this time next year, her child would be present. It was sort of a terrifying thought.

But there was this shred of excitement inside of her. When she and Toby had thought she was pregnant before they'd gotten married, she couldn't deny her wanting to provide her son or daughter with the childhood she hadn't been granted.

Learning that it was actually false was simultaneously gut-wrenching and relieving. They weren't ready then.

Were they even ready now?

For her whole life she'd been able to run from and push away feelings she didn't have an interest in dealing with. Now the pregnancy was _real_ , and she couldn't ignore her fears.

Being scared on a case could be eased with statistics and facts. Motherhood had so many outcomes that weren't solved by logical reasoning.

She was either a good parent or she wasn't. There were no _ifs_ , _buts_ , or _maybes_.

Either Happy could do this or she couldn't.

She had been so engaged in her own thoughts that when Toby pressed a kiss to the top of her head, she almost jumped. She hadn't even heard him enter the room.

There was a tender smile in his tone that almost prompted some of her internal sentences to become external. "Hey," he said softly, "Happy Mother's Day."

The shaky exhale that escaped her mouth was almost soundless. "Happy Mother's Day."


End file.
